


Lift Up the Glasses

by mamodewberry



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Bars and Pubs, Bedtime Story for Gab, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, Misunderstandings, Never Look Away Timeline Compliant, Pre-Canon, Russia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 19:27:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,780
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13347927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mamodewberry/pseuds/mamodewberry
Summary: For nearly two months, Viktor had avoided Yakov. As much as a student could avoid their coach, anyway. It was surprising how Vitya had held out this long, considering other instances the teen had been upset at him. But then again, Yakov’s previous offenses hadn’t been so severe.





	Lift Up the Glasses

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gabapple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabapple/gifts).



> For my @gabapple who is the bestest. This is one of the many things I have promised her in the span of our collaborations. She'll be writing Viktor's side in [Vitya Diaries](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11799600/chapters/26615346), but here is the Yakov side, some reconciliation of their misunderstanding of having separate rooms at competitions after so long from earlier flashbacks of [Never Look Away](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8997835/chapters/20547385) / soon to be VD. 
> 
> If you haven't read either, hopefully this Vitya and Papakov moment will warm your heart, anyway :) (But I'd also love you forever if you read them).

For nearly two months, Viktor had avoided Yakov. As much as a student could avoid their coach, anyway. There was no lingering after practice, no breaks in between run-throughs, no showing off in his direction, and no random phone calls throughout the week.

It was surprising how Vitya had held out this long, considering other instances the teen had been upset at him. But then again, Yakov’s previous offenses hadn’t been so severe. 

Yakov had immediately noticed how the boy deflated when he told him he’d be booking him a separate room for future events at Russian Nationals. Yakov hadn’t mean it as punishment - it was a graduation of sorts. If Viktor was going to be busy with his boyfriend, he figured that’d be the easiest for all parties involved. It happened eventually with all of his skaters and he never expected Vitya to be any different. It had just happened… a little faster than he expected given how dependent the boy was. 

That had been the first offense. The second was Gosha opening his mouth. The rite of passage at sixteen was a ritual he’d had with all his skaters, and was to be kept secret to preserve the element of surprise. Like the hunting trips for new team members, taking his students out for drinks on their sixteenth birthday was something he did by choice; giving back to the youth in a small way for the medals they win him and Mother Russia. Unfortunately, surprise came with its own challenges. For all others, Yakov had a parent or two to coordinate the outing, but for Viktor, with only an aunt and uncle that understood very little that their nephew was involved in, Yakov had merely relied on their yearly tradition. Since Viktor started joining him at Nationals, he always took him to breakfast the morning of the twenty-fifth of December before the day’s competition. Viktor usually stayed close, it would have been easy to take a cab to a pub that evening for dinner, and then drinks, without question. 

But this year, Niko - the boyfriend - had been in attendance. The boy had been a distraction off and on throughout their relationship, it wasn’t outside possibility that he’d have plans to celebrate his birthday, too. Yakov should have anticipated that. And having not said anything, Yakov knew he had no right to be upset about it.  So he wasn’t, but Vitya was. Yakov had every intention of keeping his personal promise, and had Gosha not let it slip, there might not have been an issue. The problem now was that Viktor was avoiding being alone with him at all costs.  

He’d just have to trick him into it. 

A week after Valentine’s Day there was a storm; the radio indicating whiteouts and bad road conditions, do not go out if you can help it, most buses limiting routes, etc. January to February were typically harsh weather, and Yakov knew that storms like these made Viktor anxious over memories of the past. If it weren’t for Makkachin, his service dog, it would have been too risky to proceed. 

One by one, his young students removed their skates and laced up their boots and bundled up in their coats and caps. Many lived nearby or already had their parents picking them up. Yakov bid them and early evening with a grunt and a wave and found Viktor packing up his bag.

Makkachin wagged his tail at the old man’s approach. 

Vitya pointedly busied himself with shifting around what was already packed away. 

Typical.

“The road conditions are dangerous out there.”

The boy didn’t look up, but he nodded. 

“I don’t want you walking out in it. Your bus isn’t running, either. I’m taking you back to the academy.” 

Though he left no room for argument, it was said gently enough that Viktor surrendered with a huff. “Fine.”

 

The boy and his dog crawled into the passenger’s side of Yakov’s rusted car. Yakov started the ignition and let it idle for a few minutes for the heater to run.

Makkachin curled on Viktor’s lap, taking full advantage of his pup size for comfort and warmth to himself and his person. Viktor took to staring out the window, despite not moving. Stubborn. 

Yakov let him stew as he pulled out of the parking lot of the sports club, slowly treading the ice and snow beneath the tires. He waited for Viktor to notice they were not heading in the direction of the academy, but maybe the harsh conditions were interfering with Viktor’s sense of place. Good. The longer, cautious commute didn’t arouse any sort of immediate suspicion until the vehicle came to a stop in a lot aligned at the backside of a row of tall buildings.

“This isn’t the academy…” Viktor tried to grumble, sounding disappointed, but he was curious. Betrayed, but curious. Maybe hopeful. 

“It isn’t. We’re going inside.”

“Where’s  _ inside _ ?”

“You’ll see. Come, Vitya. It’s cold and getting darker.” Yakov pocketed his keys as he got out of the car, to round the front to get Viktor’s door. 

Viktor was petting Makkachin’s ears, face pulled into uncertainty. 

“ _ Now _ , Vitya.”

Makkachin whined and lifted onto his front paws to lick at Viktor’s face. There was satisfaction in knowing the dog was on Yakov’s side. A few more licks and Viktor was following Yakov to the front side of the building onto the sidewalk, boots dragging along the way. 

Light from the overhead street posts and windows of surrounding establishments lit their path and, eventually, the realization of where they were going caught up to Viktor.

He planted his boots in the snow, looking from Yakov to the pub and back. “Coach, you don't... have to... I know I missed my chance…”

“This is not up for discussion. Tradition is tradition.”

“Y-you like Georgi more than me. It’s okay!”

“Vitya.”

“Really!”

“Vitya, please.”

Coach Voice always made the boy pause. His shaky breath could be seen in the winter air. Makkachin whimpered at Viktor’s side, nudging at his hand with his muzzle, then nipping at his sleeve. 

Yakov would stand on the sidewalk for as long as it took and Viktor knew that. Stay outside and freeze for an undetermined amount of time or go inside where it was warm to reconcile a misunderstanding. The latter would always be the better choice, no matter how stubborn Viktor tended to be. 

After a layer of snow had accumulated on top of them both, Viktor finally pet his poodle’s head, nodded towards Yakov, and took steps to rejoin his coach and walk towards the pub. 

The familiar lantern posts were like a welcoming beacon, both from the elements and the brewing headache. A cure for all ailments just beyond those doors at the end of the stairs. 

Mollie’s was an Irish-style pub, the first of its kind to open in Saint Petersburg in the mid-nineties. Yakov had visited many pubs throughout his life in the city, but something about the wood and brick furnishings, the green, old-fashioned wallpaper, and low ceilings with low golden lights was somehow comforting. A casual atmosphere with booths and high tables, it invited an assortment of crowds. Nights like these were quiet. Weekends he avoided. They served an array of beverages, including Yakov’s favorite brand of vodka and whiskey, and delicious pairing food. 

He may not have gotten to take Viktor out on the day of his sixteenth birthday, but hoped taking him to his favorite establishment would have a greater sentimental value to the boy. 

Yakov helped Viktor out of his coat and hung it on the hook in the lobby. He then caught the attention of a server and asked for a towel for their wet, four-legged companion. When the young man came back with a towel, he handed it to Viktor to tend to. 

“Yasha, welcome! The usual?”

Yakov looked to the old bartender with a nod. “Yes, thank you Alyosha. Can me and my student get a booth? And a bowl of water.”

Alyosha noted Makkachin’s vest. “I’ll see if I’ve got a chop bone, too. Take whatever available booth you’d like.” The bartender left them for the kitchen to seat themselves.  

They took a booth toward the back, away from the other only patrons there - a group of four businessmen - that was accented in stained glass. Makkachin lowered to the ground, head on his front paws. 

It didn’t take long for Alyosha to return with the procured items for the service dog, along with a shot glass and bottle of Beluga. 

“I’ll get those pickles and onion rings out for you when they are ready. Anything for your guest?”

Yakov looked to Viktor, who blinked up at them both, completely out of his element. Yakov considered for a moment.  “A side salad and pirozhki platter. A shot variety of Standard, Mamont, Moskovskaya, Kauffman, Greenmark, Stoli, Zyr, and Smirnoff.” 

“And one vodka sampler for the birthday boy. I’ll be right back.” 

When Alyosha was out of sight, Viktor leaned forward on the varnished table. “Why, Coach? I thought you were mad that I was with Niko instead....”

Yakov popped the cap on the Beluga and poured himself his first glass. “I was never mad, Vitya.”

“But you stopped sharing a room with me…”

“You were spending the evening with your boyfriend; a very adult and private occasion. Booking you your own room will give you your privacy at future events. You’re independent, now, da?”

The teen looked down at his hands on the table - one part relieved, one part confused perhaps? What more of an explanation did he need? “I thought I was being punished because I’ve been so… distracted? And then morning practice at Junior Nationals…”

“You’re not the first student I’ve had to be in a physical relationship, Vitya.”

His head shot up at that, face flushing beet red.

Yakov couldn’t help an amused chuckle behind his vodka glass. Reminding Viktor he wasn’t the only youth in his life was often entertaining. But Yakov was an important paternal figure in  _ his _ life, so he couldn’t blame him for reacting. 

After several long second, Vitya cleared his throat.“S-so Georgi’s not your favorite?”

“I don’t have favorites. I take everyone out on their sixteenth birthday. Or as close to as I can. With permission from their parents of course.”

“And since I don’t have any, really...” he wrinkled his nose.

“No, I didn’t bother asking your aunt or uncle.”

“Oh good!” 

The glass clinked on the table as Yakov set it down to refill it, one side of his mouth tugged in amusement. If his relatives gave Yakov a headache by proxy, he could only imagine what it was like living with them. “What is your experience with alcohol, Vitya? I’ve only seen you drink the champagne at banquets.”

Viktor nodded. “That’s really it. Champagne at competitions and sometimes at New Year’s. I did get to try some really good wine that Niko brought for my-” he stopped himself and sat back in the booth bench. He didn’t need to finish. 

“Well, tonight we drink vodka. Like Russians.”

While Viktor beamed and fidgeted excitedly in his seat, Alyosha returned with their order of appetizers and vodka. 

Viktor peered at the sample tray, overwhelmed, but curious. His salad with cucumbers, beets, and shredded carrots was placed in front of him. Then Yakov divided the pirozhki, onion rings, and pickles - two for Viktor, three for Yakov until the plate was empty. 

“One of the most important things to remember when drinking is to eat alongside. It will slow the absorption of alcohol in your body. Which will allow you to drink all that without a problem. In theory. We’ll see how your tolerance is.”

Wide-eyed, Viktor turned to the tray again, challenging the liquor.  

“Also, pacing. You want to savor your drink.”

He nodded, understanding. 

“Why don’t you eat your salad first and then I’ll go over the brands with you.”

“But he didn’t label them?”

“I know, Vitya.”

Impressed, Viktor picked up his fork and ate at his salad with an enthusiasm he didn’t often show.  

“You’ll need to eat the other food as we go, too.”

Mouth full of lettuce, he nodded. 

Carefully Yakov shifted the tray toward himself to bring the first glass to his nose to identify the brand. “Ah Mamont, a good starter. Dry, yet smooth. Smell it a little before you drink, take in the aroma. Don’t down the whole glass; sip and savor. Also, it’s very important to always have chilled vodka. Never ice, just chilled.”

Viktor took the offered glass and held it under his nose, giving it a little swish. He lifted an eyebrow at it, as if waiting for an explanation to its scent. One glance at Yakov, he brought it to his lips and tipped back.

As expected with a first-timer, he held a bitter face, eyes on the brink of tearing, cheeks taut. Eventually he convinced himself to swallow, and stuck out his tongue.

“Bad?”

“It burns more than the wine, oh god!”

“Yes, well, vodka is a stronger drink. But, since you brought up wine, try this one; Moskovskaya. Spicy kick with apple notes. A hint of mint and cream for added sweetness.”

The description seemed to excite the boy as he took the glass from Yakov. “Oh, wait, should I finish this one first?”

“Take a sip of that and then decide.”

Viktor did so and his expression was near opposite. “Okay, I’m finishing the Mammoth and then I’ll drink this.”

“Don’t forget to eat, too,” Yakov chuckled. 

“I will, I will! Mm that one  _ is _ good.” Viktor placed the glass down and picked the smallest onion ring from the plate and bit off half of it, then set to sipping at the Mamont. When finished, he set the glass by itself on the tray. “Coach, Coach, what’s your favorite?”

“Oh, it looks like I didn’t get you a sample…”

Viktor pouted.

“I tease, Vitya. I’ll pour you a glass from my bottle. My favorite is Beluga. I think you’d like it as well. Here.” Yakov filled the now empty glass with Beluga. “Eat, Vitya.”

They both reached for a pirozhki.

Next Viktor tried the Beluga, wearing a fond smile on his face as he did. Pleased to share with coach? “It’s kind of like spicy honey, huh?”

“Precisely. Try the Kauffman next.”

As instructed, Viktor sipped away at the remainder of Beluga, savoring with delicate sips (as was customary of Viktor, he never did anything halfway). Viktor paused at taking the offered Kauffman in favor of another onion ring and pickle. Yakov nodded his approval and did likewise. 

Together, they took their next drink. 

Greenmark followed. Then Smirnoff.

While they drank, Viktor’s cheeks became rosier, eyes brighter. He was happier than he’d been in months, so willing to share with Yakov his life at the academy, things he’d stopped talking about, claiming Coach didn’t need to hear about ballet and tests or how weird his former roommate was! But now, Viktor didn’t care and it was like old times again. 

When Viktor reached the glass of Zyr, something about Feliks trailed when he also reached for his fork to clink at the empty bowl.

“You ordered me a salad…” Viktor pulled his bottom lip into his mouth to suppress its sudden quivering. 

The change in atmosphere alerted Makkachin, and he plopped his head on Viktor's knee with a whine.

“Because you like them.”

“You r-r _ emembered _ that I like salads…” 

“If you'd like, I'll get you another. You're getting weepy because you're not eating enough.”

The boy covered his face with his hands and gave a small whimper. “Another saaaaalad from Coach! I can- I can’t… believe...”

There was one more drink left… he was doing so well. If getting emotional was the worst of it, Yakov would consider it a success. If it stayed that way. This night was an introductory training, afterall. Chuckling, Yakov ordered another salad.

Viktor drank the Stoli last, and Yakov waited until Viktor ate all of his second salad before cashing out. 

Emotional, an appetite, and a bit of a sluggish step; Viktor's tolerance was one of the best Yakov had seen.

How he'd be in the morning would determine the need for hangover training. His other students had parents to help with that, Vitya did not. If anything, he hoped he'd just be a little late for classes tomorrow. 

“You're coming home with me tonight, Vitya,” Yakov said while he helped Viktor into his jacket.

“Sleepover at Coach’s? Sleepover!”

Makkachin barked at his human’s enthusiasm.

Yakov didn't have favorites, he just had his Vitya. 


End file.
